Speechless
by DeniseV
Summary: John and Rodney need to talk, but Rodney's not saying much these days. A sequel to my earlier story Clueless. Still preslash.


It was the groan that woke him up, not the movement. John was willing to call Carson for that sedative if it meant he could avoid the conversation he knew he needed to have with Rodney.

Rodney's admission in his sleep the previous night had shocked John, but even more surprising had been his body's reaction upon hearing that his teammate loved him. John Sheppard was intimately familiar with denial; his body, including his heart, apparently felt that it was time to confront what up until now he had successfully denied had been developing between he and Dr. Rodney McKay.

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard knew that much of the basis for his denial was his Air Force career: he had to protect what he had worked so hard to achieve. The choice had always been an easy one in the past; whenever he put his military career up against any other option, the choice had always been clear and convincing.

Rodney McKay had changed that, though Sheppard was hard pressed to identify just when the change had happened. And though Rodney classified it as love, John wasn't sure he was ready to accept that classification.

At least his head was telling him so; it was evident that other parts of his body had other ideas. It was more than frustrating to John Sheppard that his heart seemed to be winning in a competition where a different organ had in the past always rose victorious. It had always been so easy that way. He wasn't used to feeling…whatever this was that he was feeling.

A second groan followed quickly by a third said that Rodney was truly waking, but not in a very pleasant manner. His friend had slept for an unexpected eleven hours. McKay's body desperately needed the recuperative effects of a good night's sleep. Several good nights' sleep, in fact. But last night's solid effort combined with weeks of abuse from a wracking cough seemed to be wreaking havoc in other ways.

"Rodney?" John coaxed, trying to pull the scientist fully awake. "Feeling kind of achy, huh?" John grimaced as every movement seemed to bring renewed pain to his friend.

"Ooooh, god," Rodney scratched out quietly, his vocal chords pained at being put into action.

"Ouch," John winced at the sound of McKay's voice…what little he could hear of it. The relative inactivity of the night – Rodney had coughed only sporadically, though never deeply, through the night – hadn't done much to improve the sound coming from Atlantis' chief science officer and number one talker.

Rodney opened his eyes and looked at his bedmate. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and pushed himself to a sitting position before John could get into position to help. Rodney groaned again and rubbed at his stomach, but then offered a slight laugh and a shake of his head.

John would need to find out eventually what that was all about.

"Be right back," Rodney forced out in a whisper as he headed to the bathroom.

John sat and thought about what to do next. He needed to think about his own feelings, his own reactions to what Rodney had said; his responses to how Rodney had felt laying up against him. They would need to talk. God how he hated that shit.

Coughing on the other side of the door interrupted his musings.

Rodney came out a few minutes later, looking just a little better. The extended sound sleep had obviously helped. Rodney grinned at John and then pointed to his throat.

"No voice," Rodney said, or rather, mouthed. Though he had tried to speak, very little sound could be heard. He sat on the bed, pressing his hand on his stomach.

"That's a good thing, right?" John asked wryly. "Now you have no reason to try." Rodney gave him a dirty look. "Doesn't sound like the cough is much better, though," John added with a frown.

Rodney shrugged his shoulders, which caused him to wince and rub his neck. "It's a little better," Rodney tried. John only understood because he was able to read Rodney's lips. Not a bad pastime, reading Rodney's lips. It definitely beat listening to some of the rants that regularly came from those lips.

"You're really sore, huh?" John asked as he took over massaging Rodney's neck. Rodney went back to rubbing his stomach.

"All over," Rodney admitted. John just barely heard it as Rodney's head started to hang down due to those relaxing ministrations. Rodney lifted his head quickly and looked at John, a barely audible "Ow" coming from his abused throat.

"What?" John asked. "Take it easy."

"L…Last night!" Rodney said with agitation, though again little to no sound came out. "I t…told you…" Rodney breathed in too quickly and kicked off an all-too-familiar coughing jag. John took over massaging Rodney's stomach and back at the same time, the support helping to ease his friend through the painful convulsions.

Though it took a while, Rodney finally stopped coughing and was breathing normally – well, as normally as he was currently able.

John stopped the stomach massage but kept his hand on Rodney's back. "I remember what you said. And luckily, you've got a reprieve from talking about it. For now," John warned. "But it's okay. We'll talk when you can." John didn't bother adding that he welcomed the reprieve as well. For now.

Rodney nodded his head in acceptance.

After dressing and hitting the commissary for breakfast, where Rodney endured John speaking for him, adding that unique Sheppard spin to every story, they both stopped at the infirmary for Rodney's now daily check-up.

"Good morning, gents. How did you sleep? Well I trust, since I haven't heard from you," Dr. Carson Beckett greeted. Both men found Atlantis' chief medical officer just a little too cheery that morning. John rolled his eyes as Rodney nodded in agreement.

"I saw that," Carson said accusingly. "Rodney, you look better." A pat of the exam table was the doctor's only invitation for Rodney to sit.

John looked to Rodney, who nodded once, giving his consent for John to speak on his behalf; he didn't remember giving said consent in the commissary.

"Sleeping was good," John said as Rodney nodded in agreement. "Rodney only had a couple of moments of minor coughing…"

Rodney McKay interrupted John. "I did?" he asked. It was only audible to John, who had gotten used to listening to a lower decibel McKay.

"Yeah, but you didn't wake up," John offered helpfully.

Rodney looked at John sadly. "But I woke you up."

"That's okay. I fell right back asleep," John smiled back.

Carson watched the exchange with interest. "Is there something you boys want to tell me?"

"No," Rodney and John answered together. Rodney frowned as John grinned at their joint answer.

"Carson, as soon as it's no longer a rumor, you'll be," he looked to Rodney…it was clear to the others in the room that he was counting in his head, "the third to know it." John shook his head as he heard the words coming from his mouth. Rodney opened his mouth to respond, but Carson stopped him.

"Rodney, you should stop talking. Heaven knows what kind of mess you would talk yourself into right now. And nobody can hear you…"

"John can," Rodney interjected, looking somewhat put upon by Carson's comment. Beckett looked to John for the translation.

"He said I can," John offered humbly.

Carson rolled his eyes and continued checking over his patient. "Yes, well, nobody else is going to remember to be so extra attentive, and it will be better for you," Carson explained as he turned back to Rodney, "to rest, including your vocal chords. You won't like it much if the cough is gone but your chords are still too inflamed for you to speak."

Rodney sighed heavily, which started him coughing. Again. It had been another rough morning. John pressed his hand overtop of Rodney's, which was already protecting bruised stomach muscles. Carson frowned and said, "Lie back for me, Rodney."

"Why?" McKay eked out.

Carson gave him the look that reminded the physicist who was in charge. He lay back as Carson assaulted his abdomen. After several moans on his part and one too many pokes from Carson, Rodney grabbed the physician's hand. "What?" Rodney started, though the rest of his question was smothered in more coughing.

John finished for his friend. "What are you looking for, Doc?"

"I just wanted to make sure Rodney hadn't pulled anything serious, or cracked a rib." Rodney looked at Carson worriedly. "It's all right," Carson comforted. "I think it's just accumulated abuse. I'm going to give you a mild muscle relaxant. Why didn't you tell me it was bothering you so much?"

Rodney glared at the doctor.

"What Rodney means, Carson, is that he's had other things on his mind," John said as he smiled at his sick friend. Rodney nodded at John's comment, and then looked at Carson like he shouldn't have had to ask the question.

John was amazed at how well Rodney McKay was communicating without speaking. Who'd have thought….

John looked at Carson mischievously and said, "I was thinking last night that it would be great if the Ancients had invented some machine that could mute a voice. Or actually a cough, but it would be better for a voice. We could use it on him whenever we needed." John looked at Rodney, who didn't seem amused. "Make that whenever we wanted."

Rodney's two friends smiled at each other, pleased with themselves, as McKay gave Sheppard his most heartfelt offended look. Rodney McKay had pretty much mastered that look. And then he stepped off of the exam table and proceeded to whack John Sheppard hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" John yelped.

"I think you deserved that one, colonel," Beckett supplied helpfully. Rodney stood with his arms folded waiting for them to finish.

Carson laughed as he looked at his stewing friend. "Here, take these. They should help." He handed the muscle relaxants to Rodney. "Try to get more sleep. Last night's seemed to help," he added as he rubbed his friend's stiff neck with affection. Rodney nodded and then left, Colonel Sheppard in tow.

"How come you didn't hit Carson?" John asked, rubbing his bruising arm. Rodney's 'are you kidding?' expression translated easily. "Ah," John nodded knowingly. "Big needles."

John interrupted the quiet of their steady but slow trek back to Rodney's quarters. "Rodney, you've got to feel like you've been worked over by Ronon," he said companionably.

"Or Teyla," Rodney countered, causing both men to laugh. At least John's friend had retained his sense of humor. It felt good to laugh, really good, until Rodney's laugh changed to a harsh cough. John stopped as McKay leaned against the wall, raising his hand to his throbbing head. He watched, keeping his distance in the public halls of Atlantis, his desire to help his friend clashing with his instincts to protect himself. As he'd said to Rodney the night before, half of Atlantis already thought they were an item, and he had no desire to fuel that flame. His gut in the past had always said do what was best to assure your career, which explained why he failed to touch Rodney now while he seemed to have no trouble, and indeed quite the desire, to do so in private.

But those protective instincts seemed to be evolving – the thing to protect no longer only himself or his career. Things were changing. This was going to get complicated.

Rodney breathed easier after a couple of minutes, though this particular attack had left streaks of tears on McKay's cheek. Rodney looked up at John as he continued to lean against the wall. "I'm tired and it's only ten o'clock." The scientist lowered his head in frustration.

"Well," John said as he grabbed his friend around the shoulder, directing him back on the path to Rodney's room. The embrace was more that of a comrade in arms, though only he and Rodney knew that the squeeze he gave was warmer than it should be. "You are probably a solid week behind on sleep. You were tired when you got up."

Rodney allowed himself to lean more on John than he probably should. God he was tired. John checked to assure they were alone in the hallway.

"How about we play hooky and just sleep all day?" John suggested, matching the pace of the ill scientist. McKay paused briefly as he looked at John, agreement in Rodney's slight grin and gratitude in his expressive eyes. And John knew that Elizabeth and Carson, and especially Radek Zelenka would approve; anything to get their obnoxious and obsessive, brilliant and surprisingly fearless physicist healthy once again.

Once in Rodney's quarters they both readied for sleep quickly; John could tell that Rodney would not be awake much longer. The muscle relaxant should also help his friend rest better.

John was in position on the bed this time when Rodney came out of the bathroom. The visibly tired man stood next to his bed but didn't take a seat.

"What?" John asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the reason for Rodney's hesitation.

"I think we should…"

John cut him off. "Ack! One word answers. That's it. Carson'll have my ass."

"We should," Rodney tried; a choked cough and John's next '_Ack!' _stopped him from completing the thought.

"Fuck you," Rodney continued with annoyance.

"Not today," John sniggered as he patted the spot where Rodney should be laying.

Rodney stuck his tongue out at his friend as he lay down against John's chest. He vaguely remembered something like this from the previous night, but he was far more lucid now than he was then. He remained on edge, unable to truly relax knowing that he had let the colonel in on his secret.

John put his arms around Rodney and pulled the tense man against him in an affectionate embrace. He hugged tightly until he felt Rodney loosen up some and sink into him.

"Rodney, we'll talk about this later. Just relax."

McKay breathed in and out several times in an effort to calm down. He started to say something, but John placed his hand over Rodney's mouth.

"McKay," he began, removing the hand now that he had Rodney's attention, "listen to me. We will talk. I promise. We're okay." John squeezed his charge tightly again. "I promise you, we're okay. Relax," he added, as he felt Rodney sink further into the embrace. "Christ, you're a pain in the ass sometimes," he added.

"Fuck you," Rodney offered quietly, his voice low and slightly slurred.

"Anxious, are we McKay?" John teased.

A frustrated sigh was followed by a quiet _'jerk'_. Rodney's elbow digging hard into John's ribcage told Sheppard what his friend thought of the snide question.

"Ow! McKay!"

Rodney then turned to face John, a clever cover to explain the elbow jab, no doubt. His eyes were closed and he had a pleased smile plastered to his face. The scientist cuddled in close and was so near to sleep that John couldn't bear the thought of delaying his much needed slumber any longer. Rodney drifted into a light snore. John laughed easily, shaking his head. "This isn't going to be easy, is it McKay?" he asked quietly and then eased into sleep.

The End.


End file.
